The snow had softened into gentle flurries as the Crimson Dice rode toward Aurelthane’s Estate, the manor rising from the frost like a carved memory — marble towers, lantern-lit archways, and banners of deep silver fluttering in the cold.
For the first time in months, their journey wasn’t toward death, battle, or dread.
It was toward celebration.
Toward a life they were choosing.
And Borin rode in front, back stiff, beard frosted, pack clutched to his chest like a newborn.
Inside that pack?
The rings.
He glared at anyone who so much as looked at it.
Borin (growling at Laz):
“Dinnae even think about it, lad.”
Laz:
“I wasn’t—”
Vex:
“You absolutely were.”
The Arrival
At the main courtyard a pair of squires rushed forward, bowing with clumsy enthusiasm.
Squire 1:
“Welcome, Crimson Dice! Lord Aurelthane awaits your pleasure!”
Squire 2:
“We will take your packs — please, allow us to show you to your rooms.”
They moved toward each of them, relieving them of satchels, cases, and garment bags.
Vex nearly bit one when he tried to take her dress.
Vex:
“That gown is worth more than your house. Hands OFF.”
Arden intervened before infernal sparks could fly.
Borin allowed them to take everything except his pack.
Borin:
“This stays. Touch it, and I forge ye into soup.”
The squires nodded rapidly and backed away.
Sereth & Elaris — A Gentle Moment Interrupted
As the group dispersed toward their rooms, Sereth and Elaris walked together beneath the lanterns, fingers brushing in the cold. They were a step away from their door — a quiet moment of peace — when—
A hand tapped both of them on the shoulder.
They turned.
And found themselves staring at a man with glossy chestnut hair, robes embroidered with musical notes, and a posture that suggested he was either a bard…
…or had accidentally swallowed a metronome.
He bowed.
Deep.
Too deep.
Like… his torso ended up parallel to the floor.
Sereth blinked.
Elaris mouthed what is happening.
Elaris:
“Um. You can… stand. Please.”
The man snapped upright with inhuman precision, heels clicking together.
Man:
“I am Maestro Tivalis the Third, humble servant of rhythm, harmony, and nuptial magnificence!”
Sereth and Elaris stared.
He continued.
Tivalis:
“I have been tasked by Lord Aurelthane with composing, conducting, and coordinating your wedding dance.”
The color drained from Elaris’s face.
Sereth’s pupils dilated in pure, silent horror.
Sereth (whisper):
“Oh no.”
Elaris (muttering):
“We’re going to die.”
Tivalis clapped sharply, producing a sound like two pieces of marble colliding.
Tivalis:
“Please follow me to the grand hall. We begin immediately.”
They didn’t move.
Tivalis leaned forward, smiling with the terrifying cheerfulness of someone who took dancing very seriously.
Tivalis:
“Immediately.”
Salvation From a Hyperactive Hawk
Before either could come up with excuses, a familiar voice cut through the courtyard:
Elyra:
“DANCING?!”
She bounded toward them, circlet gleaming, face bright with excitement.
Elyra:
“Yes dancing! Come on!
Lead the way, Maestro!”
Sereth reached toward her.
Sereth:
“Elyra—wait—!”
But Elyra already hooked their arms and marched her parents forward with enough enthusiasm to drag a dragon.
Tivalis, delighted, swept ahead toward the estate doors.
Tivalis:
“To the Grand Hall!
We begin with posture!
Then footwork!
Then emotional synchronization!”
Elaris (to Sereth, panicked whisper):
“I can animate skeletons but not my own feet.”
Sereth (equally panicked):
“Elaris if he asks us to lift each other I’m faking a sprain.”
Elyra:
“You two are adorable. Move faster, we’re late!”
They were swept inside, helpless.
Behind them, Garruk leaned out of a doorway.
Garruk:
“They look terrified.”
Kaer nodded.
Kaer:
“Marriage is a battle unlike any other.”
Pancake hopped onto the railing like a smug owl.
Pancake:
“They’re doomed.”
Inside the Grand Hall — The Doors Shut
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Music swelled.
Curtains parted.
A dozen assistant bards lined up with instruments ready.
Tivalis turned.
His eyes gleamed with unholy determination.
Tivalis:
“Now.
Let us begin.”
Elaris and Sereth swallowed.
Hard.
The wedding dance had begun.
And it was terrifying.
THE WEDDING DANCE PRACTICE
Aurelthane’s Grand Hall — Two Days Before the Wedding
Chaos, Comedy, Romance, and the Seeds of Something Perfect
The grand hall of Aurelthane’s estate was a cathedral of warm golden lights — chandeliers glimmering like floating constellations, beams draped in silks, the polished floor waiting like a stage. It was romantic. Magical.
And the Soon-to-Be Vorns had never been more terrified of a room.
The double doors swung open with the theatrical flourish of someone who had clearly practiced… alone… in a mirror.
A man stepped forward — tall, willow-thin, black hair in a dramatic wave, wearing a coat that sparkled like someone had glued stars to it in the dark. His eyeliner alone could kill a lesser man.
He bowed.
No — he folded in half.
A perfect ninety-degree angle.
His forehead nearly brushed the floor.
Elaris and Sereth stood frozen, unsure whether to applaud, flee, or check if he was okay.
Elaris:
“…you can… err… stand?”
The man snapped upright with the elasticity of a startled cat.
Maestro Tivalis:
“Magnificent bride and luminous groom! I am Maestro Tivalis — Choreographer to Dukes! Dancer to Queens! Enemy to Rhythmically Inept Adventurers across the realm!”
Sereth and Elaris exchanged a look:
we’re dead.
Before they could politely decline, Elyra came GALLOPING through the hallway like an overexcited storm of joy.
Elyra:
“YES. DANCING! LEAD THE WAY!”
And with that, their fate was sealed.
ACT I — “THE CALAMITY BEGINS”
Maestro Tivalis clapped once — a sound so sharp it scared Pancake up to the rafters.
Music began.
Slow, elegant, courtly.
Tivalis guided them into a basic stance.
Tivalis:
“Prince Elaris… hand here. Spine tall. Feet apart — no, not that far apart unless you intend to joust your beloved.”
Elaris slid his feet back together. Too fast.
He bumped Sereth’s knee.
Sereth:
“Ow—! Love!”
Elaris:
“I panicked!!”
Tivalis pinched the bridge of his nose.
But then—
They took the first steps.
And for a breath… it went well.
Sereth melted into Elaris’s arms, his hand finding her waist naturally, her free hand sliding along his shoulder. They moved, hesitant but close. Almost romantic.
Tivalis inhaled.
“YES. YES! That’s it! THAT IS—”
Elaris accidentally stepped on his own suspender.
He pitched forward.
Sereth caught him by the shirt before he face-planted.
Tivalis:
“…That is NOT it.”
ACT II — “THE GENRE WAR”
“Again!” Tivalis cried.
The music changed.
A tango struck.
Sereth blinked:
“…what is—?”
Elaris nearly dislocated a hip.
Garruk howled from the sidelines:
“KICK HIM IN A SPIN! THAT’S WHAT TANGO IS!”
Vex ( lounging with grapes ):
“No, tango is hips. Like this.”
She demonstrated something that made Laz choke on air.
The tango ended abruptly.
Next came something suspiciously Infernal.
Red lighting.
Heavy drums.
Vex and Laz cheered dramatically.
Elaris:
“Why does it sound like Valthrix is about to appear?”
Tivalis:
“BECAUSE PASSION, SIR.”
Then the music shifted again—
Waltz.
Swing.
Something vaguely pirate.
Something unmistakably dwarven beer-fest.
Sereth nearly threw Elaris over her shoulder during that one.
Elyra was in heaven.
Every time they failed (which was often):
Elyra clapped.
Elyra cheered.
Elyra heckled with love.
Elyra:
“MUM YOU MISSED THE TURN—
DAD YOUR FOOT IS NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT—
OH GODS YOU TWO ARE SO CUTE—
I’M COLLECTING SO MUCH BLACKMAIL FOR THE FUTURE—”
She danced along.
She spun.
She jumped.
She slid across the polished floor in socks.
There was no sign of crystalline stiffness.
Only joy.
ACT III — “THE ALMOST MOMENT”
After the eighth attempt, Maestro Tivalis dimmed the lights slightly.
A soft melody began — gentle, warm, slow.
Elaris and Sereth froze.
This one felt different.
Tivalis (quietly):
“…now dance. Not as fighters. Not as heroes. As two souls who found each other in the ashes.”
Something in them shifted.
They stepped closer.
Hands met.
Breaths matched.
Sereth lowered her head against his chest.
He brushed her cheek with his thumb.
Their bodies moved — hesitant, clumsy, but wrapped around one another with real tenderness.
Elaris whispered:
“…we might actually manage this…”
Sereth whispered back:
“…don’t say that or we’ll—”
He stepped on her foot.
Both:
“OW—!”
Tivalis screamed into a pillow.
The spell shattered.
Chaos returned.
Elyra rolled on the floor laughing.
ACT IV — “THE FINAL ATTEMPT… AND THE PANCAKE INCIDENT”
Tivalis:
“ONE. More. Time. I beg of you as a man of art.”
They assumed position.
The music started.
And—
Pancake leapt from the rafters
landed on Elaris’s shoulder
and began conducting the orchestra with a breadstick he’d stolen from somewhere.
Tivalis nearly fainted.
Pancake squeaked commands like a cosmic drill sergeant.
Sereth was laughing too hard to continue.
Elaris was trying not to drop the weasel.
Maestro Tivalis was seeing his soul leave his body.
At last, the music ended in an absolute trainwreck of limbs.
THE AFTERMATH
The hall was silent.
Tivalis exhaled, smoothing his hair back with the air of a man who had aged twenty years in forty minutes.
Tivalis:
“…We have… much work to do.”
Elaris:
“…are we that bad?”
Tivalis:
“Yes. But you are very pretty, which helps.”
Sereth slapped Elaris’s arm playfully.
He grinned without shame.
Elyra bounced on her feet:
“That was AMAZING! Tomorrow again?!”
Tivalis turned, horrified.
“…Tomorrow… again?”
Elyra:
“Yes! Same time!”
Tivalis whimpered.
Elaris whispered to Sereth:
“Do you think we’ll ever get this right?”
Sereth:
“No. Not like this.”
She kissed his cheek.
Sereth:
“But on the day? It’ll happen. I don’t know how — but it will.”
And she was right.
Because the dance they practiced would never matter.
The dance they lived —
barefoot, raw, spontaneous, glowing —
would become the moment everyone remembered forever.
“A Day for Two”
The Night After Dance Practice / The Morning After
Feet, Flustered Fiancés, and a Surprise Trip into Town
The chaos of practice had finally, mercifully, ebbed away.
The grand hall lay quiet.
Only faint echoes of Elyra’s laughter and Maestro Tivalis’s traumatized whimpers lingered somewhere in the rafters.
Back in their private room, Sereth collapsed backwards onto the bed with a groan so dramatic it almost shook dust from the ceiling.
Sereth:
“By the gods… my feet are declaring war on my body.”
Elaris, who had been pacing and mumbling about the physics of turns, froze mid-rant.
Elaris:
“…your feet hurt?”
Sereth lifted one leg, foot pointed at him like an accusation.
Sereth:
“Yes.”
Elaris dropped everything and rushed to her side.
Without hesitation — and with a gentleness that made her heart melt — he took her foot into his hands and began massaging slow, careful circles into her arch.
Sereth:
“…that’s it… that’s the spot—”
Her head fell back into the pillows, a small shiver running up her spine.
Elaris swallowed.
Hard.
Sereth peeked at him with a sly smirk.
Sereth:
“Stars above, love… you look more flustered than I feel.”
Elaris (trying to recover):
“I—I’m just making sure you’re not in pain.”
Sereth:
“Oh I’m in pain. Just… a fun kind.”
He nearly choked.
Sereth giggled and nudged him with her knee.
Sereth:
“You’re cute when you panic.”
He continued massaging, ears burning pink.
Elaris:
“Well… maybe your fiancé has something… planned. Something to… perhaps distract you from the dance humiliation?”
Sereth arched a brow, curious.
Sereth:
“Oh? And what would that be?”
Elaris took her hand — gently, reverently — and kissed her knuckles.
Elaris:
“Tomorrow morning… just you and me. No party. No chaos. A day in town.”
Her expression softened into something warm, glowing, safe.
Sereth:
“…just us?”
Elaris:
“Just us.”
Sereth cupped his face, forehead touching his.
Sereth:
“Then yes. A thousand times yes.”
THE NEXT MORNING
Aurelthane’s Town — Warm Sunlight, Warm Hearts
Sereth had dressed lightly, hair braided over one shoulder, circlet shadows no longer haunting her eyes, just peace and excitement. Elaris wore his suspenders and a casual shirt — the relaxed Shepherd, not the mage general.
They walked arm in arm through the cobbled streets, past market stalls, flower carts, and musicians.
Sereth stole kisses every few steps.
Elaris pretended to be shocked each time.
Sereth didn’t buy it for a second.
The moments came like beads on a string—
- He bought her a candied apple.
She shared exactly one bite before claiming the rest “was hers by divine right.” - She pushed him playfully into a fountain.
He retaliated with mage hand splashes. - He pulled her into a quiet alley and kissed her breathless.
Sereth whispered against his lips:
“…I could get used to this.” - She made him try on a ridiculous feathered hat.
He kept it on because she laughed so hard she nearly cried.
Everything was soft.
Human.
A day they deserved.
But just when Sereth thought the surprises were over—
Elaris slid behind her.
His hands gently covered her eyes.
Sereth laughed.
“Elaris… what—? If you walk me into a post I swear—”
Elaris:
“I’m guiding you, trust me.”
Sereth:
“Usually I do, but after yesterday’s dance practice—”
He nudged her forward.
Then stopped.
Elaris:
“Okay… ready?”
Sereth:
“…yes?”
He removed his hands.
And Sereth nearly passed out laughing.
Before her stood the largest shoe emporium she had ever seen.
Towering windows.
Golden letters.
A sign promising:
“BOOT HEAVEN — For All Lengths, All Styles, All Souls.”
Sereth clutched his sleeve, eyes wide, mouth open.
Sereth:
“OH THIS WAS THE PLAN, WAS IT!?”
Elaris burst into laughter.
Elaris:
“You did say you lost your favourite pair.”
Sereth spun around, grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him hard.
Sereth:
“Come on!”
Elaris:
“—wait what—?”
She yanked him inside with the strength of a ranger who’d been raised running wild through forests.
THE BOOT APOCALYPSE
The moment they entered, Sereth transformed.
Predator mode.
Target acquired.
Boots.
Elaris barely had time to blink before she vanished into an aisle.
He heard rapid footsteps — graceful, lethal — the sound of a hunter stalking prey.
Elaris:
“…I’ve made a mistake.”
A clerk approached sympathetically.
Clerk:
“First time bringing a partner to Boot Heaven?”
Elaris (haunted):
“…yes.”
Clerk:
“Good luck.”
Moments later Sereth reappeared with twelve pairs stacked in her arms like a dragon hoarding gold.
She vanished into the changing room.
Elaris waited.
And waited.
And then—
Sereth emerged.
And it was over for him.
Pair after pair, she stepped out:
- Thigh-high obsidian leather boots that hugged every curve.
? Elegant white riding boots with swirling gold embroidery.
? Black laced boots so tall they nearly reached her hips.
? Fire-red ranger boots with slits that showed hints of skin.
? Soft midnight velvet boots with moon-shaped buckles.
? Practical knee-highs that still managed to be stunning.
? And boots so tall, so fitted, they challenged the definition of footwear.
Sereth would step out, spin, plant a foot, pose, then disappear again.
Elaris sat there, jaw slack, heart racing.
He had never been more aware of how devastatingly beautiful his fiancée was.
Sereth (after her twelfth performance, hands on her hips):
“So? Which pair?”
Elaris blinked.
Confused.
Elaris:
“…um… which… pair?”
Sereth:
“What do you mean which?”
Elaris:
“You want… two pairs?”
Sereth put both hands on his shoulders and leaned in with playful menace.
Sereth:
“I want ALL pairs.”
Elaris gulped so loudly the clerk heard it.
Sereth (mock dramatic):
“Don’t upset your fiancée days before her wedding… she’s still recovering from your dance moves.”
She pouted theatrically.
He cracked instantly.
He bought all twelve.
The clerk recognised them the moment he heard “Crimson Dice” and waved the fee entirely.
Clerk:
“For what you did at Northreach, it's the least I can do. Go get married. And walk tall.”
Sereth winked.
“Oh I intend to.”
THE WALK BACK
Sereth carried one pair in her arms like a prized treasure.
Sereth:
“I’m wearing those first thing in the morning. And then the next pair after lunch.”
Elaris laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
Elaris:
“You know… I didn’t think anything could make you happier than the wedding.”
Sereth:
“Elaris, love… boots.”
She kissed his cheek.
Sereth:
“Also you. But mostly boots.”
He bumped her playfully.
Their fingers intertwined.
And for the first time in days — no queen, no war, no curses —
it was just them.
Just two people in love.
Planning a life together.
Laughing their way through the world.